


Seven-Day Wonder

by Cerdic519



Category: I Dream of Jeannie, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angel Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Human Dean, M/M, Supernatural Elements, genie!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, over three months in the making, but my Supernatural/I Dream Of Jeannie fusion is finally done! </p><p>Dean Winchester acquires a genie (Castiel) who can grant almost every wish he could make – but of course, there's a catch. Unless he can find a way to keep him, he has to hand him back in just seven days. </p><p>Seven very interesting days.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete, and will be posted one chapter per day over the coming week.

Looking back at how it all started, Dean Winchester really should have seen it as the set-up it was. He keeps the Impala in perfect condition, but it goes and dies on him driving down a street he’s never been down before, and popping the hood, he can’t find any cause. Then whilst he’s waiting for Bobby and the tow-truck, there’s a sudden downpour (as in blue skies one minute, friggin' Noah's Ark floating by the next), forcing him to take refuge in a nearby shop doorway. And it’s there that he sees it.  
   
He’s always had a weakness for old sitcoms, and sitting slap-bang in the middle of the old antiques shop is an exact copy of the genie bottle from ‘I Dream Of Jeannie’. Of course there must be hundreds of the things out there, but Dean just knows it would be perfect for the cabinet in his front room. He squints down to read the tiny price-tag – damn it, he’s really going to have to succumb to reading-glasses one of these days – but it's blank. Puzzled, he goes inside.

The place looks like it maybe saw a broom some time last millennium. The shopkeeper is a short, scruffy man who, for some reason, looks vaguely familiar. His badge – in a place like this, honestly? - denotes him as 'Chuck'. 

“How much for the Jeannie vase?” Dean asks.

“It's not for sale”, the man says. “But you can have it free for one week.”

He stops, and Dean waits for the catch. 

“And?” he prompts, when nothing is forthcoming. 

“You return it by” (the man squints at a pocket-watch, for goodness' sake!) “ten o'clock next Thursday. Yours to do with as you please. There is a way you can keep it, but you have to work it out for yourself.”

“I could always just ask the genie”, Dean teases.

“He can't tell you”, the man says flatly. He opens the window display and takes the vase, placing it almost reverently in a well-padded box, before handing it over. “I will see you next week, Dean. Don't be late.”

It says something that Dean is outside the shop – the rain has stopped, thankfully - and placing the box in the Impala before he realizes the man could not possibly have known his name. On a hunch, he slips the key in and tries the engine.

It starts first time.

He considers going back into the shop, but he really needs to get home. Even if he isn't going in today, he still has stuff to get finished for the meeting tomorrow.

+~+~+

Behind him in the shop, the scruffy man turns the sign to 'Closed' and goes out back to make a coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table is a tall blond man with strange golden eyes, though possibly not as strange as the huge sets of golden wings radiating from his back and passing through the chair.

“Well?” the angel asks anxiously.

“He might be the one”, the man says. “His heart is in the right place. It all really depends on whether he's brave enough to do it…..”

+~+~+

The next odd thing to happen in Dean's day occurs when he gets the bottle home. It had looked in good condition when the weird little guy wrapped it up, but now there are dirty fingerprints all over it, as if it had been handled by a coal-miner. He frowns, and goes into the kitchen to fetch a cloth. Returning, he polishes the bottle until it gleams, and stands back to admire his work.

“Thank you”, comes a graveled growl from directly behind him.

It could be said at this point that Dean Winchester does not give a girly shriek, and does not jump several inches before spinning round so fast he almost falls over. It could be said, but it would be a lie. He does both of those things. And standing before him is basically a younger version of Columbo.

A younger, really hot younger version of Columbo. A large percentage of Dean's blood suddenly decides to head straight for Little Dean.

”Who the hell are you?” he demands, in a voice that is at least an octave higher than he would like. 

“I am Castiel, genie of the bottle”, the man says patiently, as if suddenly appearing in people’s houses was perfectly normal. “Thank you for bringing me to your home, Master. I shall endeavor to serve you in every way I can.”

Dean takes a second look at him. The guy is no Barbara Eden, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s definitely hot, the sort of 'just rolled out of bed after hot sex' look most models would spend hours trying to achieve. Less than a minute in, and he is so not thinking of doing the horizontal tango with a genie. 

He's glad he's wearing loose pants, by the way.

“I can change my appearance if it is displeasing to you”, Castiel rumbles, and no, Dean desperately tries to focus on Bobby, or Sam, or grandmas; anything to stop him thinking about.... 

“Er, no, that’s fine for now”, he says hurriedly. “So, um genie, huh? Like three wishes genie, or…..”

“I am bound to answer your every request”, Castiel says, and he looks straight at Dean though the bluest eyes the man has ever seen. “Though in fairness, I might add that you should remember the human adage about being careful what you wish for. My last owner’s final words were, and I quote, “I wish I were on my own Caribbean island’, presumably thinking that would get him out of returning the bottle. He is, I understand, still there.”

“O-kay”, Dean says, resolving to be very careful around his new housemate. “So what else can you do?”

“Almost anything except people's personal preferences and changing the past”, Castiel explains. “Though we may visit the past as observers, if you are so inclined. But remember, unless you take the bottle, you will be stuck there.”

“Right. And, um, you live in the bottle?”

“The bottle is merely my link with the Earthly Plain”, Castiel explains. “If you do not wish my presence…..”

“Whoa!” Dean almost shouts. “I do want you. “Castiel quirks an eyebrow at him, and he quickly backtracks. “Not like that! Though.... look, I’d find it a hell of a lot easier if you used the spare room whilst you’re here. I can just tell people you’re a friend from college, staying the week.”

“Thank you, master. Of course, you could always wish for a bigger house.”

“But what happens if I have to hand you back?” Dean asks. “Does all the stuff you get me disappear the moment I had the bottle over?”

“No”, Castiel says. “Everything you wish for becomes yours permanently, master.”

“Good. And cut the 'master'. It makes me feel…. well, I don’t go in for that sort of thing.”

His conscience sniggers quietly. Dean ignores it.

“I am obliged to serve you in any way I can”, Castiel points out. “Though I cannot make people fall in love with you, I can at least procure the one-night stands you seem to prefer. Unless you prefer me to serve you in more direct ways?”  
   
Dean glares at him.  
   
“All right”, he says heavily, “rule number one. No mind-reading, capiche?”

Castiel smiles.

“My last master required me to regularly become his favourite female television personality”, he explains, “so I will understand if you wish.....”

“No!” Dean almost yelps, then cringes at the hurt look he gets in response. “Look, you're attractive, right, but... well, it wouldn't be right, doing it with someone just because they have to. I mean, that's basically prostitution!”

Castiel looks at him thoughtfully.

“You are an interesting human”, he says eventually. “I suggest I withdraw for a time, and you can start drawing up a list of things you desire. I will see you later, Dean.”

He vanishes, and Dean is almost disappointed that there isn't a puff of green smoke left behind. 

+~+~+

An hour later, and Dean is beginning to realize his life isn't really that bad. The only thing he really wants is, unfortunately, beyond Castiel's power, namely for his little brother to see sense and ditch that druggie girlfriend of his. Apart from that, his life is pretty good right now. 

He decides to go into Castiel's room and see how (or indeed if) the genie is settling in. The spare room is bland; Dean had always meant to get round to redecorating it, but never seemed to have the time. He finds Castiel sat on the bed, still in his trench-coat.

“Doesn't that get uncomfortable?” he asks. “You're not too hot?”

“I am not human, Dean, so body temperature does not matter”, Castiel explains. “Thank you for allocating me this room.”

“It's pretty boring”, Dean admits. “I had hoped to get round to redecorating it at some point, but.....”

“Would you like it done as your first wish?” Castiel asks. “I could do it for you in seconds.”

Dean looks around the room, and thinks. Yes, it would be nice. But what to do? He'd never given any serious thought to just how he wanted the room to look if he ever did get round to it. A sudden thought occurs to him.

“Cas”, he asks, “did any of your previous masters let you have a place, apart from the bottle.”

The genie stares at him curiously.

“You called me Cas”, he says, frowning in confusion.

“Sorry”, Dean says quickly. “If you'd rather be.....”

“I like it”, Castiel says, a small smile creasing the corner of his chapped lips. Lips that Dean is definitely not thinking of kissing in the next seven days. Thank the heavens he made the genie promise to keep out of his thoughts.

“Lemme think about it”, he says, trying to drag his thoughts out of the gutter, “and I'll get back to you later.”

+~+~+

By the end of the day, it is a very confused Castiel who beds down in Dean Winchester's spare room. His previous masters had demanded all sorts of things from him, and he had quickly tired of them, usually ending their relationship by taking advantage of an ill-expressed wish (which was why his last master was currently living in a makeshift house on a small island in the Caribbean; Castiel made a mental note to make sure a passing ship spotted him before he starved). But Dean, although he clearly found Castiel attractive as he was, seemed to have too many scruples to do anything with him, although he had managed a few small requests that day – some extra spare cash, a large pizza with everything, good health regardless of what he ate, and his neighbor's stereo to explode. Okay, his actual request had been just for the music to stop, but Castiel disliked garage music on principle, so he had interpreted that request in his own way. 

Was Dean the one, he wondered? Or would he end up like all the others, handing him back having failed to break the curse?

Castiel sighed and picked up his book.


	2. Friday

Dean prides himself on being fairly observant, so when he wakes up this morning, he knows immediately that something is a little out of the ordinary. Of course, a trench-coated man sat in his bedside chair giving him his full attention might, in all fairness, be described as something of a clue.  
   
“Don’t you sleep, Cas?” he yawns. He is suddenly aware that he is wearing nothing but his boxers, and Castiel is staring at his half-naked body like he has never seen one before. He instinctively pulls the covers up.  
   
“I am a genie, Dean”, Castiel says loftily. “I do not really need sleep. Though I do find a few hours resting and recharging to be beneficial.”  
   
Dean is beset with a sudden image of him spooning the smaller man in his bed, that impossible flyaway hair tickling his nose. Suddenly his boxers feel a bit too tight…..  
   
“Would you like breakfast, Dean?” Castiel asks, tipping his head to one side in a way that is definitely not cute. It really isn’t. Dean just needs to take a moment to process the question.   
   
“Eh, sure”, he says. “We could go to Denny’s and order the Supreme…..”  
   
There is the faintest of clicks, and a steaming Denny's Supreme appears on the bedside table. Dean stares at it in surprise for a moment, before grinning.  
   
“Awesome, Cas!”  
   
The genie smiles slightly, and Dean is sure he can detect a blush in there somewhere. He wonders if any of Castiel’s former masters ever actually thanked or praised the genie for his work. Somehow he doubts it.  
   
He hesitates halfway through a perfect crispy waffle.  
   
“You don’t eat, I suppose, Cas?”  
   
“No, Dean.”  
   
“Can you eat? Or would food make you ill or something?”

“My previous owners saw no reason to feed me. And there is no reason to expend my power obtaining food I do not need.”

Dean thinks quickly.

“It's just.... I feel kinda awkward eating whilst you have nothin', you know”, he says diffidently. “It'd just be nicer if you'd mojo up something for yourself, social like. Make me feel better.”

Castiel looks at him uncertainly, but when Dean nods encouragingly at him he blinks, and a plate of steaming pancakes covered in syrup materializes in his lap. He again looks at Dean, seemingly fearful that his master will change his mind at the last minute, but when Dean continues to look at him, forks off a piece and swallows it.

“Oh that is good!” he sighs ecstatically, as he attacks the contents of the plate. 

Dean stares at him. Castiel running his tongue round his sticky lips is making him have to adjust the covers, to hide the happy things that are starting to occur beneath them. And he is feeling somewhere between anger at the genie's former masters for never showing him any consideration at all, and an increasing determination that even if he only has him for this week – six days now – he will make this time a happy one for the little guy. He hides his thoughts by tucking back into his own breakfast.

+~+~+

Castiel is reading and waiting for Dean's next request when there is a knock at the door. A little surprised – this is Dean's house, after all – he puts down his book.

“Enter”, he calls out,

Dean duly comes in. He looks strangely excited.

“You know you said anything you do is permanent?” the man asks, a little rushed.

“Yes”, Castiel says. “What is it you wish?”

“I was thinking”, Dean says. “Assuming I'm too dumb to find out the way I can keep you, I'd like you to redecorate this room your way. Then, if the worst comes to the worst, at least I've a permanent reminder of you.”

“My own room”, the genie says slowly. “An intriguing concept.”

“I've got to go into work for a quick meeting this morning, then I'm home working on a presentation for the rest of the day”, Dean says. “You can use the Net or just zap yourself round a few home design stores, and come up with some ideas. Show me what you like, and I'll tell you if it's okay.”

Castiel looks at him in confusion. First no sex, and now a master who allowed him to do his own thing? This was all very odd. 

“I... could do that”, he ventures eventually.

“Great!” Dean beams. “I'll set the laptop up for you whilst I'm gone, and you can print off some ideas as to how you want it to look. Thanks for the breakfast, by the way.”

“You're welcome.”

Dean gives him a last smile before departing the room, pulling on his shoes and going out. He leaves a somewhat confused genie behind him.

+~+~+

By the time Dean gets home from the inevitably overrun meeting, Castiel has put together several possible designs for his room. Dean thinks they're all good, but he especially likes the blue-themed one, with fluorescent stars on the ceiling, and tells Castiel to go ahead and do his thing. He spends the next few hours on the laptop, but when he sees Castiel has left his door slightly ajar, he goes across and sneaks a look into the room. 

It's magnificent. A blue-black carpet and dark blue walls might have made for a dark room, but the clever positioning of a new mirror opposite the bow window reflects the minimal light. There are even small fluffy white clouds on the ceiling, though none block out the stars.

Castiel looks up as he enters, a worried look on his face. 

“I think it looks great, Cas!” Dean smiles. “Another half an hour on that damned project, then I suggest we go to the Roadhouse for dinner.”

The genie stares at him in confusion.

“You wish me to go to dinner with you?” he says querulously. 

“Yeah”. Dean says. “Ellen does some of the best burgers ever. And her pie – it's to die for!”

Castiel stares at him uncertainly for a moment, then smiles. That gummy grin, and the way his eyes crease up at the edges – definitely not adorable, Dean tells himself. Absolutely definitely not. No way.

Big river in Egypt, his mind snickers. He ignores it.

+~+~+

Taking Cas to the diner might just have been a mistake, Dean realizes an hour later. Not that he isn't fascinated by everything, but when their burgers come, he positively inhales his, making happy sounds that make Dean really glad their table isn't transparent. And that he wore loose pants again (he'll be wearing those a lot this coming week, he suspects). If the pancakes this morning were bad, this is straight out of a porn movie.

“Ellen's virtually a second mum to me”, he explains, in an attempt to distract himself from the X-rated scene going on a few inches across the table. “She runs this place with her daughter Jo; she helps out at the garage sometimes.”

Castiel finally finishes his burger (much to Dean's relief), and looks consideringly across the table at him.

“Family is important to you”, he says at last.

“Yeah, well, them and Bobby at the garage. And Adam.”

“Who is Adam?”

“Little bro'. Just turned eighteen.”

Castielk frowns. “I thought your brother was called Sammy?”

“Oh, he's my full brother”, Dean says, smiling at Cas' apparent confusion. “Dad had an affair when he was on the road, and Adam was the result. We didn't know about him until after dad died, and he showed up out of the blue. Mom was great; she welcomed him with open arms. He's starting KU next year, and I'm so proud of him.”

“And Sammy?”

Dean's face darkens.

“He's out at Stanford, in Cali”, he says, sounding suddenly bitter. “He's hooked up with this druggie chick called Ruby, and we barely talk any more, except when he wants money.”

“You could always wish for money for him, Dean.”

Dean looks across at the genie, and smiles.

“I know exactly what he'd spend it on, Cas”, he says, sounding resigned. “And since you can't do romance, there's no out there, either.”

“Then perhaps you could cut off his supply”, Castiel suggests.

Dean looks quizzically at him.

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“A simple spell to turn any drugs he gets into, say flour”, Castiel says. “Quite easy. If that is what you wish.”

Dean stares at him for a moment, and in his happiness, he might be excused for letting his mouth move off before his brain can get into gear.

“I could kiss you!” he grounds out. Then he turns a shade marginally redder than the ketchup bottle. Castiel smiles, then concentrates for a moment.

“It is done”, he says. “Your brother's girlfriend will purchase some drugs for him tomorrow, but when he reaches them, they will be self-raising flour.”

Dean beams at him.

“Thanks, Cas.”

He can be excused for taking the angel's hand. And for not letting go until they leave.

Well, sort of excused.


	3. Saturday

Dean wakes up to find himself alone in the room. Whilst Castiel staring at him from the chair had been creepy, he kind of misses the guy when he isn't there. And he has to start figuring out how he was going to keep him. That shopkeeper had said there was a way, and Dean is determined to find it.

If only he knew where to start, though. 

There is a knock at the door, and he looks up in surprise.

“Come in”, he says warily.

To his relief, it is only the genie. 

“You didn't just mojo your way in here, then?” Dean asks, surprised.

Castiel blushes.

“You seemed to find me being in your bedroom somewhat unsettling yesterday”, he offers, “so I thought a more conventional entrance would be better. Would you like the same breakfast as yesterday?”

Dean thinks about it for a moment.

“Actually, could you mojo up a Waffle House special for me today?” he asks. “Plus whatever you want, of course.”

Castiel looks only momentarily surprised, and seconds later there's two trayfuls of food on the desk, plus a plate of bacon on its own.

“You only havin' the bacon, Cas?” Dean asks, scrambling to take the first tray. 

“I really like the taste of bacon”, Castiel admits, looking almost guilty as he says it. “Those bacon burgers yesterday were delicious.”

“We can swing by the Roadhouse for lunch, then”, Dean says. “I promised I'd help Bobby out with a rush job at the garage this morning.”

“You could always get me to do it for you”, Castiel suggests.

Dean laughs.

“I don't want to be responsible for poor old Bobby getting a heart-attack!” he chuckles. “Besides, I like working on cars. It's good for the soul.”

“Therapeutic”, Castiel says.

“Bless you!”

Castiel looks at him curiously, and Dean reminds himself to add teaching the genie about humor some time.

+~+~+

It's just Dean working on the Chevelle; the rest of the team are finishing off a Jag, a rare and expensive commission. Dean explains to Bobby that Castiel is an old schoolmate, staying with him for a week whilst he's in town, and the old man swings by just before lunch to check up on his progress. Dean had managed to resist the temptation to use Castiel's mojo, except for getting the genie to break off a recalcitrant bumper. 

“We're all going by Ellen's for lunch”, Bobby says. “Ya comin'?”

“You go ahead”, Dean says. “I'm almost done here. Ten more minutes, and she'll be ready for the paint job this afternoon.”

“Ellen's is the Roadhouse bar?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah”, Dean says, concentrating on sanding out the last few scratches.

“Well, we're goin' on ahead”, Bobby says. “She's finishing early for this afternoon, and she does the burgers way better than any of her cooks. I'd marry her for them burgers alone!”

“Then it is a good thing you're in love with each other”, Castiel says dryly.

Dean freezes in his motions, and looks across at a rare sight – a speechless Bobby Singer. Though not for long.

“You what?”

“You are romantically attracted to her”, Castiel says bluntly. “And from the way she feels about you....”

“How in tarnation d'you know how she feels about me, boy?”

Dean prays quickly that Bobby doesn't cuff Castiel in his annoyance, because he suspects it'd break the old man's hand.

“He's sorta psychic”, he gets out. And subtle as a brick, he adds silently, as Castiel looks confusedly at him.

“Is there a problem?” he asks politely.

Thankfully, Bobby just grunts and leaves. Dean waits until he's sure the man has gone, before sighing heavily.

“Subtlety, Cas. You just don't go around telling people who they are and aren't attracted to. It's weird!”

Castiel seems to slump at that, and Dean immediately feels bad.

“The only thing left to do is the door panel”, he said. “You use your mojo on that, and we can go join the others for bacon burgers.”

Castiel gives him a small smile, and the car is done. Dean's half-tempted to get Castiel to do the whole paint job as well, just to freak the others out, but he decides not to push his luck. 

“I need to go and change”, he says, “then we can go. Thanks for that, Cas.”

The genie smiles again, and Dean's heart does that annoying fluttery thing again. 

+~+~+

Once they reach the Roadhouse, Dean notices quickly that Ellen and Bobby seem to be having some intense conversation, judging by the way both of them are blushing. Perhaps Castiel's intervention was all for the best anyway. He swats at Jo as she swipes a fry off his tray.

“Get your own, Joanna Beth!”

She grins at him.

“So Castiel is your old 'friend'”, she says, putting far too much emphasis on the last word in that sentence. Dean scowls at her.

“Dean and I are indeed friends”, Castiel says dryly, and Dean feels just a little pleased when the genie's eyes light up at the plateful of bacon before him. “I like this place.”

“Yeah? My mom owns it.”

“Your mother is Ellen.”

“Yeah.”

Castiel turns to Dean.

“And Adam is your half-brother?”

Dean stares at him curiously, wondering where this is heading.

“Yes”, he says carefully.

“I see.”

Castiel concentrates on his bacon, seemingly unaware that two sets of eyes are now focussed on him. Somehow his silence is deafening.

“What's Adam got to do with it?” Jo asks eventually. 

The genie gives Dean his 'hurt puppy' look, and despite it making Dean want to gather him up and hug him, he manages to stay focused on the matter in hand.

“Oh. Jo and Adam aren't together”, he says. 

“Really?”

“What do you mean?” Jo asks at once.

Castiel hesitates.

“Only he has spent much of his time here staring at you. I am sorry, Miss Harvelle. I clearly mis-assumed.”

Jo stares at him in shock, and Dean stifles a giggle. Which would have been a very manly giggle.

“Psychic”, he mutters. “Just not subtle.”

Castiel blushes.

“Excuse me a moment”, Jo says, getting up and making her way over to the other table. Dean watches as she goes straight up to Adam and says something to him, the young blond flushing bright red as she does.

“I am sorry.....” Castiel starts.

“Don't worry about it”, Dean reassures him. “Seems like you're quite the matchmaker, for someone who can't do personal stuff.”

“I cannot change people into something they are not”, Castiel explains, “but if the love is already there, I can make people come to express their feelings.”

Dean thinks about this for a moment.

“So you can sense when someone is in love?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“Oh.”

Castiel looks hard at him.

“Though I know you do not like the term, you are my master”, he reminds Dean. “And I have promised not to read your thoughts. You have my word that your own feelings, whatever and for whomsoever they are, will remain your own.”

Dean smiles gratefully at him.

“Thanks, Cas.”

+~+~+

Castiel had not been strictly truthful with his master. He had indeed read Dean's thoughts, which was how he knew his concerns about Bobby and Jo. He had also probed in a (failed) attempt to understand why Dean found his normal appearance attractive. Frankly this was beyond the understanding of even a genie.

He sighs as he gets into bed. Another new experience; he had never had a bed before, but now he did, he found he really liked sleeping, and waking up in his human form rather than being summonsed by his latest master. Dean had said there was nothing to beat a good night's rest, and Castiel can see why. He sighs, and closes his eyes.


	4. Sunday

Castiel did not get his good night's rest. He woke up sharply, realizing at once that something was very wrong. Then he felt it; Dean was having a nightmare. He teleported at once to his master's room, to find the man writhing on the bed, sweating heavily.

The genie hesitated. He knew he had promised not to go into Dean's mind without his permission, but he could not see his master suffering like this. He stood by the bed and concentrated hard.

+~+~+

The nightmare was running its usual course for Dean when he felt something changing. The burning house faded away, and he was standing all alone on the street....

No, not alone. Someone – or something – was standing close behind him. He should have been afraid, but instead there was a feeling of complete calm, as if nothing in the world could harm him. Then the figure folded two huge black wings around him, wrapping him in a feathery embrace. For the first time in his adult life, he felt completely safe. Whatever was out there in that big bad world could never break through this shield. For once, he was the one being taken care of. It was... nice.

He woke the following morning to the delicious smell of bacon and coffee, and uttered a silent prayer that the genie somehow knew what he wanted even before he said it. Which reminded him; he needed to look in his mother's library today. He was sure there were some books on genies there, and perhaps a clue as to how he could keep Castiel. And that wasn't his only option.

He smiled as he got up. He had never had such a good night's rest.

+~+~+

“Thank you for taking me to see your mother, Dean.”

How the hell does anyone make a trench-coat look that sexy, Dean thinks.

“Yeah, well, I introduce my genie friends to her all the time”, he says sarcastically. The predictable head-tilt tells him that Cas did not get it, of course. “Come to that, what were you before you were a genie? Just a run-of-the-mill ordinary guy?”  
   
Castiel pales for a moment, and Dean winces.  
   
“I cannot remember”, the genie says softly. “And I have tried. But something is blocking my memories from before then.”  
   
“So you don’t even know how long you’ve been a genie, then?” Dean asks conversationally.  
   
“Approximately five thousand years.”  
   
Luckily, Dean manages not to crash the car. Even more luckily, there is a lay-by just ahead, into which he steers Baby before turning to stare at his passenger in horror.  
   
“Five thousand?” he manages eventually.  
   
“Four thousand, nine hundred and sixty-one years, three months and eighteen days”, Castiel says matter-of-factly.  
   
Dean’s brain seems to have temporarily frozen into the dreaded Blue Screen of Death, but eventually he manages to say something.  
   
“So how many masters have you had in that time, Cas?”  
   
“Including yourself?” the genie says. “Nine hundred and forty-eight.”  
   
Dean’s brain freezes again. Nearly a thousand masters, and judging from the way Castiel had behaved when they met, pretty much all of them must have treated him like a giant sex-toy. The genie seems to read his thoughts, and smiles at him reassuringly.  
   
“I am happy you are my master now, Dean”, he says, his blue eyes shining.  
   
And for possibly the first time, Dean Winchester realizes just how much trouble he is really in.  
   
+~+~+  
   
He’s not the only one to spot it. His mother loves Castiel, especially when they get onto the subject of her one consuming passion; her garden. Whilst he is in the bathroom (Dean had had the foresight to tell him to make occasional visits, although knowing Cas, the genie will time each of these to exactly the three minutes he suggested, which in itself could be noted), she sits down opposite her son and produces a slice of pie. This is always a bad sign. Whilst a whole pie is okay, a single slice means she wants to Talk. With a capital ‘T’.  
   
“I think Castiel is a very nice guy”, she begins.  
   
Dean is inwardly counting down those three minutes, wondering if Castiel has the power to make time go faster.  
   
“Yeah, he’s alright”, he says, taking a mouthful of pie.  
   
“You are in love with him, aren’t you, son?”  
   
His current mouthful of pie returns very quickly to the dish, and she has to pat him on the back several times before offering him a glass of water.  
   
“Mom!” he says.  
   
“I’ve seen the way you look at him”, she says. “And the way he looks at you. You have to grab your opportunities, Dean, or good things like him will happen to someone else.”  
   
“He’s only staying a few more days”, Dean says defensively.  
   
“Surely if you asked him…?”  
   
And that’s the whole problem. Dean knows Castiel can't stay, and that whilst would say yes to... well, you know, Dean would never truly know whether it was because he had to or because he actually wanted to. Granted he seems a lot happier with Dean than any of his previous masters, but without that knowledge, he just can’t.  
   
Castiel comes back into the room at that moment.  
   
“I’m going over to see old Mrs. Moseley for a few moments”, he says. “Mom, do you want to give Cas the grand tour of the garden whilst I’m gone?”  
   
“Sure”, she beams.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Missouri Moseley had been Dean’s teacher back in kindergarten, and even then he had been slightly freaked out by the way she always seemed to just know what was either happening or about to happen. If his mother’s library didn’t yield anything, then she was his back-up. She welcomed him, and he was only slightly surprised at her first words.  
   
“You’ve come about your 'friend'”, she said.  
   
He nodded.  
   
“And you want to know how to keep him in your life?”  
   
“Can you help?” he asked eagerly. “Please?”  
   
She looked at him thoughtfully.  
   
“Save your energy”, she said. “Enjoy the time you have with him. No point wasting it looking for something you’re not going to find.”  
   
Dean’s shoulders slumped.  
   
“On the other hand…..” she said, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes.  
   
“Mrs. Moseley! Please!”  
   
She looked hard at him.  
   
“They say religion has answers to many things, Mr. Winchester”, she said enigmatically. “When the time is right, God will provide you with a clue. But it won’t be until your time is nearly up, and you’ll have to do something exceedingly painful as a result.”  
   
He gulped, but it was better than nothing. And at least he could get to spend the next few days with Cas not worrying so much.  
   
“You’d better fly”, she said. “Your ‘friend’ will be waiting for you.”  
   
“Thanks, Mrs. Moseley”, he smiled.  
   
+~+~+  
   
When he got back, he found his mother was if anything even more in love with the genie, especially as he had given her several hints and tips on her garden. When he went upstairs for his second three-minute toilet break, she didn’t actually say anything, but stared meaningfully at him the whole time. Somehow, that was even worse.


	5. Monday

His mom's library having been a bust, Dean had spent most of Sunday evening planning his remaining time with Castiel, determined that if he failed to find a way to keep him, at least the genie would have some happy memories of one of his masters. The thought that these might be the only happy memories for five thousand years is one he pushes very firmly down.

He wakes early on Monday morning, and wishes immediately that he was waking next to Castiel. But despite his own wishes, he is determined not to take advantage of the genie in that way. The only thing he'll be using Castiel for today is to help persuade his work that he needs the week off for a family emergency. His creepy boss Zachariah – for whom Dean definitely has some unpleasant things lined up later in the week – always demands full documentation for any time away, despite the fact he himself takes copious holidays.

He gets Castiel to summon breakfast from Waffle House again this morning, before explaining what he wants. The genie works it so that one of his most difficult clients, Mrs. Prudhoe-Jones, phones his work and demands that he produce a new advertising campaign for her by the end of the week. Since she is one of the few people in a position to get Zachariah fired, his boss phones seconds later, telling him to work from home all week and come in with the finished product on Friday, Result!

“How do you wish to spend your time off, Dean?” the genie asks after breakfast. A breakfast in which he positively inhaled a bacon burger in a way that tested Dean's resolve to the limit.

“I thought a drive to the Flint Hills”, Dean says. 

“I could take you there in a second, if you wish?”

Dean grins at him.

“Road trip, Cas”, he beams. “Getting there is half the fun. Besides, I rarely take Baby out for a long drive these days. Sometimes it's nice just to hit the road and drive, without a care in the world.”

Castiel looks at him thoughtfully. 

“You are aware I could take you anywhere in the world, Dean”, he says. “The Pyramids, London, Sydney Opera House.... anywhere.”

“I just wanna spend some time, just the two of us”, Dean says. “And those places are all great, but I wanna drive you somewhere. Now you need to go get changed.”

“Changed?” The genie looks confused.

“Cas, I am not taking you out on a road trip wearing that trench-coat?”

The genie still looks puzzled, and Dean sighs. He goes to his cupboard and extracts an old Metallica t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Go put those on whilst I shower, okay?”

He'd expected Castiel to just mojo a change of clothes, but to his horror the genie starts taking off his pants then and there. Rather than delay and explain why this is not the social norm, he flees to the safety of the shower. If things happen during that shower, it's nobody's business but Dean's. 

+~+~+

It proves a wise decision of Dean's to pick loose-fitting pants again, because when he emerges and sees Castiel standing by the door, he thinks he needs more time back in the shower with Little Dean. The genie is wearing the clothes all right, but as Dean is a bit taller and broader that him they don't quite fit. The t-shirt hangs loose, but despite that Dean can see the muscled body beneath. The jeans are worse, hanging on those impossible hipbones as if threatening to drop any moment. 

He so should have stuck with the trench-coat. 

“Is everything all right, Dean?” Castiel asks anxiously.

Dean swallows hard.

“Fine”, he manages to croak out. “You.... look good.”

Castiel blushes, and oh my god, he somehow looks even more adorable. Dean is in so much trouble.

+~+~+

Their day in the hills goes great, especially after Castiel mojos them up a picnic hamper. Dean wonders if the genie will ever get used to being treated like a human being, as he still hesitates before eating anything, as if fearing Dean will change his mind at the last minute. Which leads to all sorts of unpleasant thoughts about the tortures his previous masters inflicted on him.

“Can I ask you something, Cas?” he ventures after a while.

“Of course, Dean”, the genie replies automatically.

Stupid question, Dean thought to himself. 

“What do you do in downtime? You know, between owners?”

Castiel thinks about that one for a while. 

“I go into what I believe you would term 'suspended animation'”, he said eventually. “Although I have existed for at least five millennia, the time spent outside the bottle has been relatively short, about twenty years in total.”

Dean tries to grasp that, but the only thing he can think is that, unless Missouri Moseley was right and he gets a heavenly helping hand, Castiel is going to keep on having cruel and sadistic owners long after he, Dean Winchester, is no more than a few files on a computer somewhere. 

“You are upset”, Castiel observes.

“Just the thought of you with someone else”, Dean says absently. He wonders why Castiel blushes, before realizing what he actually said.

Shit!

+~+~+

Castiel looks at him in surprise as they pull into the car park at the Westward Ho! diner, about halfway back to Lawrence. 

“Are you still hungry, Dean?” he asks, surprised. “I can always fetch more food?”

Dean grins at him.

“This place may have a naff name, but their shakes are the best in the state!” he declares. 

Castiel looks at him, confused.

“Shakes?” he asks.

Dean stares back at him, before realizing.

“Oh, we just have to get you to try a milkshake, Cas!”

“I can....”

“No! This place does them just the way I like. Come on, my treat!”

He bounds out of the car almost like a kid, although he doesn't miss the shy smile on the genie's face. Once inside, he orders strawberry for himself, whilst after a long consideration, Castiel opts for a banana-flavored one. When they come, he stares at it tentatively, as if he fears it will somehow explode on him. Then finally, he takes a sip through his straw.

The noise he makes next is positively pornographic, a gasp-cum-sigh of such open longing that Dean just stares. Castiel moves the straw aside and takes a mouthful of the shake, and Dean tries not to laugh at the yellow mustache that results. 

“This makes me very happy”, Castiel smiles. 

“We can come back here tomorrow if you like?” Dean offers.

For some reason Castiel's face clouds over.

“What is it?” Dean asks anxiously.

The genie hesitates.

“I really have enjoyed my time with you, Dean”, he says slowly. “But we only have three days left. I....”

He stops.

“What?” Dean prompts.

Castiel looks straight at him.

“I believe humans have a saying that it is the hope that kills you”, he says sadly. “I did not mind my previous masters so much because they were exactly what I expected, and I knew my time with them would always be just seven days. But now I know the wonderful kindness that humanity is actually capable of, I think it will be that much harder to....”

“I'm not giving up on you yet!” Dean says firmly. “There's still time. Now enjoy your shake, and just relax. To use another of our dumb sayings, live life for the moment'!”

Castiel manages a small smile, and sips at his shake.

+~+~+

Castiel is really grateful for everything Dean is doing to make his time with him so pleasant. It is just.... when he looks at him with those forest-green eyes, there is so much love in them that, for the first time ever, Castiel finds himself wanting to have sex with a master. He doesn't miss the irony that this is also the only time he almost certainly never will.

But there's something else. Castiel knows that Dean is happy doing these things for him. Dean deserves to be happy. And Castiel knows that his happiness will, very soon, be ripped away from him.

He is only grateful he will be there to repair the damage. And to make sure the person responsible for it pays.

Dearly.


	6. Tuesday

“I have to go into the office for a bit today”, Dean grouses over a cooked breakfast Castiel summoned from a local independent diner he likes. “Zachariah wants to see my ideas for the campaign. I bet he flips when he sees the dancing kittens!”

“Your client does have seventeen cats at home, despite the fact her husband is allergic”, Castiel points out. “I think it might safely be inferred that she enjoys the company of felines.”

“Anything else I should know about her?” Dean inquires over a mouthful of sausage.

“Not whilst you're eating!” Castiel grins. “And definitely not on a full stomach!”

Dean raises his eyebrows, but doesn't push the matter.

“Sammy is supposed to be visiting this afternoon”, he says, “but I should be back before lunch. Can I count on you to make sure Zachariah doesn't delay me?”

“I've added some documentation about your client's love for cats, just in case he objects”, Castiel says. 

Dean grins.

+~+~+

He returns home just after eleven.

“Cas?” he calls, walking into his apartment. “How do you feel...”

He stops dead. He's been burgled, and there's no sign of the genie. Much worse, there's no sign of the bottle, either. He's about to punch in 911 on his phone when there's a quiet cough from behind him. He turns round – and thankfully it's Castiel.

It is only unbridled relief that makes him hug the genie hard at this point. And probably shock that makes him forget to let go. For several minutes (it was a big shock). Finally however, his senses register that Castiel is not his usual self. He looks.... unhappy.

“Were you here when this happened?” Dean demands, not relaxing his grip on the genie's arms.

Castiel blushes, but then slowly nods. Dean feels his relief turning to anger.

“And you didn't think to stop them?” he demands.

Castiel looks away.

“I took the decision not to”, he said eventually. “I've retrieved all your things, including the bottle. They're in my room.”

Something is very wrong about all of this, Dean thinks.

“Who did this?” he demands. 

Castiel does not immediately answer, but raises his hand to Dean's head and gently lays two fingers on his forehead. The world promptly spins, and then they're standing on the opposite side of the room. Dean is about to ask why, when there is a knock at the now closed door, and Dean realizes by the clock that they've traveled back in time. A pause, and then another knock, before the definite sound of a key being inserted.....

Wait a minute. What sort of burglar uses a key?

Five seconds later, he gets his answer. And his world promptly crumbles. A moment later, Castiel has returned him to the present and they are sat in the kitchen, a large glass of Jack between them. Dean downs it in a single gulp, barely feeling it, and it's refilled before he puts it down again.

“I am sorry, Dean”, Castiel says gently. “I did not feel it was my place to stop him.”

Dean stares at him, unable to muster a word. Castiel reaches forward and places his hand on his wrist. If Dean had his wits about him, he would realize that the genie is slowing his heartbeat, but he just stares at the fine fingers and the pristine cuff, emerging as ever from that infernal trench-coat. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Castiel says gently.

“Drop the bastard in the middle of the Sahara Desert, for one thing!” Dean grounds out. “No... well, maybe for a few minutes, Or how's about Antarctica? Mars?”

“I am sorry, Dean.”

“My own brother! My own, freakin' brother! I send him every damn cent I can spare and a few I can't, but he still comes by and steals from me! Bastard!”

There are tears in his eyes, and he easily downs the refilled glass. Then he stares hard at the genie.

“You did the right thing”, he says, his own worries briefly forgotten at the clear discomfort the genie is feeling. Castiel suddenly looks up, as if hearing something, but then relaxes.

“Would you like to take a nap?” he offers. “I could put you to sleep for a couple of hours.”

Despite the fact that's two hours less with Castiel, Dean feels he really needs that. Two hours when he can not think about the brother he spent his whole life raising suddenly turning on him.

“Please”, he whispers.

He gets up and goes to his bedroom, slipping off just his shoes before lying down. He is out the moment his head hits the pillow. Castiel stares down at him, feeling angry. He takes a brief moment to give Sam Winchester an extremely unpleasant STD, before zapping himself away.

Dean's problems that day are far from over. Which means Castiel still has work to do.

+~+~+

Dean awakes exactly two hours after he went under, to the delicious smell of pizza wafting into his room. He has the distinct impression that something happened this morning – and he never naps in the middle of the day, so what's that all about? - but he can't for the life of him remember what. 

Castiel has his favorite meat-lovers' pizza in the kitchen, plus a warm apple-pie from that bakery he loves. He's pleased to see there's also a pizza with just bacon on it, and two shakes, one of which is banana. It makes him happy that the genie now feels comfortable enough to look after himself without first asking permission.

He's just finishing the pie and is sipping the shake when the phone rings. It's his office, and he jumps when he sees that it's Michael Milton, Zachariah's boss. As usual, he cuts straight to the chase.

“Winchester, what happened at your meeting with Adler this morning?” he demands abruptly.

Dean frowns in confusion.

“Nothing out of the ordinary”, he defends. “He seemed to like my ideas for the new ad campaign, once I'd explained them.

To his surprise, Milton chuckles.

“Well, you certainly made a mark!” he says. “He came in just after your meeting and submitted the ideas, but said they were his own.”

Dean goes pale.

“What?” he grounds out.

“Oh, I haven't got to the best bit yet!” Milton says, laughing again. “He came back after lunch and said he'd decided to, and I quote, 'seek inner enlightenment in Tibet', and was resigning as of now. And he confessed he'd stolen your ideas.”

Dean's brain spins as he tries to grasp all of this. Milton doesn't give him much opportunity.

“Anyways, the Board want you to take over his post for the next six months, starting as of Friday”, he says. “And unless you too head east, it's pretty certain it'll become a full-time postion. What do you say?”

“Um... yes, sir. Thank you very much.”

“Better thank whoever pointed Adler eastwards!” he says, a smile in his voice. “I'll drop by your new office on Monday, Winchester. Good bye!”

There is a click as he puts the phone down, and Dean pauses only for a moment before looking across the table at the genie.

“You did this?” he asks carefully.

“He was trying to take the credit for your hard work”, Castiel says, sounding almost angry. “I did not like that.”

“I never even asked.....”

“You did.”

“What?”

“You expressed a wish that your ideas would be well-received. Mr. Adler tried to prevent that. I stopped him.”

“So you sent him to Tibet?”

“Better than Mars!”

A faint memory stirs in Dean's mind, but it is gone before he can grasp it.

“Thanks, Cas”, he smiles.

The genie smiles back at him.

+~+~+

It's another good day, not counting the unexpected promotion, and marred only when Sammy calls to cancel at short notice. A sudden illness, apparently. Dean's annoyed at that, but he and Castiel enjoy an afternoon in, sat next to each other on the sofa, each reading their own book – Kurt Vonnegut for Dean and Douglas Adams for Castiel – their sides brushing against each other. Dean feels safe and protected when his genie is around, and although part of him (yes, that part) wishes for more, there's no way he would ever force him into anything.

It is worth noting at this point that a man who now earns a six-figure salary doesn't even consider that the 'man' sat next to him on the sofa, and on whose lap he later rests his head, might not actually need much forcing.


	7. Wednesday

Dean worked late the night before to get the campaign details finished, so he could have all of his last full day with Castiel. He had submitted it by email before going to bed just before midnight, and on waking had immediately pulled open his laptop to check for a response. Sure enough, Mr. Milton had e-mailed back at 2 a.m. - did the man ever sleep? - saying he was more than happy with it, and that Dean should take the next two days off before coming in on Friday. 

Dean is about to replace the laptop on the side when Castiel blows into his room. Literally. The normally only slightly ruffled genie is a mess; his coat is half-off, his hair even worse than usual, and his tie is somehow defying gravity by just about hanging on. He looks like someone dragged him into the nearest closet and tried to have their way with him.

And hello, morning wood. Dean carefully rearranges his duvet.

“You look.... messy”, he manages eventually.

Castiel produces a tray from somewhere, on which are what looks like a couple of coconuts. It only slowly hits Dean that the reason they look like that is because they are, indeed, a couple of coconuts. His eyes narrow.

“Have you been looking around in my mind, Cas?” he asks cautiously, because if the genie sees what Dean is thinking right now, he might very well take himself back to the shop a day early.

“No, in your picture files”, Castiel explains, trying and failing to flatten down his hair. “You had these for breakfast once during a business trip to Kauai, and you loved them.”

Dean stares at him. Damn genie, he was right! They had flown out to meet a reclusive client on the small island, and had stayed overnight at a beachfront hotel, where they'd offered him these for breakfast the following morning. He'd had no idea what was in it – not coconut milk, thankfully – but it had been heavenly.

“So why are you... so messy?” he asks curiously.

“I ran into a small tropical storm on the way back”, Castiel explains. “Fortunately I had the drinks stored safely. I am sorry if my appearance is untidy.”

“Don't sweat it, Cas”, Dean says, thinking to himself that if anything, the genie looks even more gorgeous than usual. If only those clothes were all off and not just half-off...

“What do you wish to do today?” Castiel asks.

Dean hesitates. He had planned to take Castiel in Baby and just do a short road trip all day, but the unexpected breakfast gives him a different idea.

“Is that storm gone now?” he asks.

Castiel looks confused.

“Yes”, he said.

“Great!” Dean says. “Once I'm dressed and shaved, how's about you taking us to the beach where they make these things, and us spending the day there.”

Castiel somehow manages to look even more confused.

“Us? Together? At the beach?”

“Sure”, Dean smiles. “Unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go....”

Castiel hesitates.

“What is it?” Dean asks curiously.

“It's just.... I'd never actually been to the beach before I got these”, Castiel says, looking down at his drinks. 

Of course, Dean had forgotten. Nearly one thousand previous owners, not one of whom had ever thought to ask Castiel what he wanted. He really hoped most of them had met bad ends. He sips his drink, and sure enough, it's as heavenly as he remembered. 

“This is nice”, Castiel smiles, sipping his own drink. Dean notices he looks a little sad; the genie probably wonders why Dean isn't rushing round trying to find a way to save him. But he has faith in Missouri Moseley, the woman who once persuaded a nearby school to schedule a tornado warning drill at the exact time a real tornado blew through their town. She wouldn't let him down.

He is somewhat less confident about God, though.

+~+~+

They arrive on the beach safely, Dean with his trunks covered by a bathrobe, and Castiel (of course) in his ever-present trench-coat. Dean can't help but laugh.

“Come on, Cas”, he smiles, as he sheds his robe. “You can't sit around all day in that thing!”

This, it turns out, is one of the worst mistakes in Dean Winchester's life so far. Castiel blinks just once, and suddenly he's wearing a pair of skintight blue trunks. And absolutely. Nothing. Else.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel asks anxiously. “Your heart-rate has just increased considerably.”

Dean wonders briefly if Castiel is actually some demon sent to torture him, because that body could have been designed to make even an angel sin. Castiel might be a couple of inches shorter than him, but he is incredibly built, with muscles in places that Dean's mind is trying and failing not to make a list of. Then Dean's brain finally judders out of neutral, and he races away down the beach and into the water.

“Last one in's a.....”

The next second, a huge wave drenches him from head to foot just a moment before he reaches the water. He blinks the water out of his eyes and just stares at Castiel, now standing waist-deep in the water, his eyes twinkling mischievously. And then the genie actually laughs! Dean scowls in mock annoyance.

“Oh, it is on!”

+~+~+

It is probably the best day in Dean's life so far, only slightly clouded by what he knew had to happen within twenty-four hours. But he pushes that to the back of his mind, and enjoys the Hawaiian-style picnic hamper Castiel mojos up for lunch. They spend the afternoon reading companionably in between either paddling or swimming. There is a full candlelit table for dinner, and Dean is again pleased that it's for two. And definitely not romantic, whatever anyone says. Anyway, there's no-one around to comment.

The sun is starting to set as they laze on their towels after dinner, when Dean turns to Castiel.

“Cas?” he says carefully, “can I ask you another question. A sorta personal one.”

“I am compelled to answer anything you ask me truthfully”, Castiel says. “What do you wish to know?”

“Do genies dream?”

For some reason this makes the genie turn bright red.

“Sorry”, Dean says. “I shouldn't have asked.”

Castiel looks straight at him, and his eyes somehow seem even bluer than ever.

“I never dreamed before I met you”, he says simply. “But these last few days.... I have begun to dream.....”

He stops.

“Go on”, Dean urges. 

“There is a house about ten miles along the coast”, Castiel says. “Set back from the beach a little and protected by a high bank, but you can still see the sea from the top floor. If I was in control of my own destiny, I think.... I would like to live there.”

There is a note of such longing in his voice that Dean's heart breaks. He desperately wants to say something comforting, but the words just won't come. Sighing, he gets to his feet.

“It's getting cold”, he says instead. “I think we should be heading home.”

Castiel nods, and they gather their things together before he teleports them back to Dean's room, several thousand miles away.

+~+~+

“You not going to sleep tonight?” Dean asks, as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“I do not really need sleep”, Castiel reminds him, “and I have still to finish my book. I thought I had done so, but apparently this particular trilogy has more than three parts.”

Dean hesitates as he stands by his bedroom door. This may well be the last time he ever sees Castiel like this. 

The words are out of his mouth before his brain has the chance to stop them.

“Sleep with me!”

Castiel looks up in surprise.

“You wish us to....”

“No!” Dean almost shouts. He takes a deep breath before calming himself down. “I just want us to sleep together. Nothing more. Tonight may be the last night I have you. I just... want you close.”

Castiel blushes, but gets up and sheds his dressing-gown. And ye gods! Black boxer briefs, that make the swimming trucks earlier look positively decent. He passes Dean into the bedroom, and by the time Dean's few remaining brain cells have recalled the complex process of how to put one foot in front of the other and he makes it into his own room, Castiel is in his bed. He slides in quietly behind him, and tentatively wraps one arm around the sleeping genie.

Castiel sighs, and there is such feeling in it that Dean knows his willpower won't last the night. Or the next minute, for that matter. He does the decent thing whilst he still can.

“I wish we could sleep all night like this, Cas”, he manages. As he loses consciousness, the last thing he hears is the genie's 'as you wish'.


	8. Thursday

8\. Thursday

Two hours left.

Today's the day God is supposed to come through for him. It would be a first, because apart from Castiel, his life has been pretty much crap. Oh, and Sammy. He thinks there is something else he should be remembering about all this, but annoyingly he can't quite put his finger on it.

There is a delicious smell coming through the half-open door, and he gets out of bed and follows it to the kitchen, where Castiel is serving up a full English breakfast. Not only that, but there's a warm apple pie in the centre of the table. Hell, he wishes he could have this guy's babies!

He wonders briefly if that's actually possible, before smiling at the genie. 

“You're brilliant, Cas!” he beams. “Thanks for this.”

Castiel looks pleased, though clearly he too is preoccupied with the events of that day. They eat in a companionable silence, before Dean goes to his laptop and maps out a route to the shop that will take them past as many churches as possible. He knows he could just get Castiel to mojo them to each one, but he wants one last drive with him in Baby, so if the worst comes to the worst, at least he'll always have that memory.

+~+~+

They pull up to the shop in silence. Nothing. Not a single clue anywhere. Even the small church directly opposite the shop – rolling digital display boards, honestly? - has a quote about John the Baptist or something when Dean walks across to look at it (thankfully he remembered to get Castiel to fix his sight problem). The genie comes and stands behind him, almost touching.

“I'm sorry, Dean”, he says gently. “My time is almost up.”

Dean turns round and draws him into a hug. 

“I shall always remember you, Cas”, he promises. “And if you meet someone cleverer that me, remember – I'll keep your room just the way you made it, if you ever want to pop by.”

Castiel hugs him back, until Dean feels him suddenly go tense. For a moment Dean thinks that his watch is wrong and the time had run out, until he hears a polite cough from behind him. He turns to see a young fair-haired minister standing there.

“Sorry, sir”, he mutters, embarrassed.

The pastor smiles. 

“Don't mind me”, he says. “I'm just here to change the sign. Dang remote only works within ten yards. So much for modern technology!”

He points a remote at the sign, smiles at the two men, and goes back inside the church. Dean is about to turn back to the genie when he feels a strange prickling feeling on the back of his neck. Turning, he sees the sign has changed, and a new message is scrolling through:

'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.'

He stares at it for a moment, then laughs hollowly. Then he quickly checks his watch. Less than two minutes left.

“Cas, get us into the shop now!” he says urgently.

The genie looks confused, as well he might given they are just across the road from the shop door, but mercifully complies, and the next moment they are standing in the middle of the shop floor. The shop owner is staring at them in surprise.

“You made it....” he begins.

“Haven't time!” Dean cuts in, placing the bottle on the counter and checking his watch again. Under a minute. “I still get to have anything I want up till ten o' clock, don't I?”

The man frowns. 

“You can't ask for extra time, if that's what you're thinking”, he says. 

“Don't need it”, Dean says, taking the genie by the shoulders. “Cas, I love you, but as the sign said, your freedom is more important. So my last wish is that you should be free forever!”

Dean doesn't know what to expect when he says that – he hasn't really had the time to think through the consequences beforehand – but what does happen is surprising. Both Castiel and the bottle vanish, and he finds himself holding empty air.

“Is he alright?” he asks the shopkeeper anxiously. 

“Hold on a minute, I'll ask”, the man says, disappearing through a door. It seems like he is gone forever, but in fact he is back in under a minute.

“Apparently he is fine”, he says flatly.

“Oh.”

“You got it right”, the man says, smiling slightly. “You set him free. He's no longer a genie now.”

“What is he?” Dean asks.

“Can't say”, the man says, shrugging his shoulders. “But he's doing okay. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean stares at him for a moment, then sighs and makes his way back to Baby and the drive back to his apartment. His suddenly very empty apartment. 

+~+~+

There is still half the apple-pie left over from breakfast, but even though he cuts himself a slice, Dean can't bring himself to eat it. Castiel is gone, and his life will forever be the poorer for that. But at least he had been able to set the genie free, and he would never have to serve a master again. Better an end to five millennia of servitude that the happiness of a here today gone tomorrow mud monkey.

He gives up and places the uneaten dish in the fridge, then turns to go back into the main room. 

And nearly dies of shock.

Castiel is standing in the middle of the room, smiling tentatively at him. The second thing Dean notices is that his smile actually reached his eyes. The guy looks truly happy. 

That's only the second thing he notices, because the first thing is the pair of giant black wings flapping gently in the breeze behind him.

“You're an angel!” he says dumbly. Smooth, Winchester.

Castiel continues to smile at him, and Dean is suddenly overcome with a fear that the guy might vanish again. Stumbling over his own feet, he scrambles across to him and takes him in his arms. Castiel sighs happily, and wraps his giant wings around them both, encasing Dean in a shelter he never wants to leave.

“I always was an angel”, Castiel explains, “but I was captured in a battle fought five millennia ago, and trapped as a genie. The only way I could be released was if someone was selfless enough to give me up, which all my previous masters were not. Then you came along.”

Dean pulls back and looks carefully at him.

“Can I... kiss you?” he asks tentatively.

Castiel smiles at him.

“I wish you would.”

Dean shudders.

“I would have never....”

“Unlike all the others, you never forced me to do anything, Dean”, Castiel says gently. “And unlike all the others, you were the only one I ever wanted to do those things with. But now.... well, I came back to you, and if you'll have me, I'll be yours.”

“Awesome!” 

Suddenly they're both naked and standing in Dean's bedroom, Castiel's huge back wings still enfolding them both. Before Dean can say anything, Castiel nudges him slightly, and they both fall onto his bed, Dean finding himself lying both in and on those wonderful wings. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester”, the angel says. “I intend to spend the rest of your life proving that to you on this world, and the rest of my existence proving it to you in the next.”

“I... can live with that.”

“C'mere!” Castiel growls.

+~+~+  
“So he's not going back to work?” Gabriel asks. 

The shop owner sighs, and smiles.

“I've given him an extended vacation, in the circumstances”, he said. “I think he and his new master - one he has chosen himself, for once - will keep themselves busy.”

“Horizontally speaking.”

“Gabriel!”


End file.
